Oblivion: An Elder Scrolls Novel
by FromanSK
Summary: My personal novelization of The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. This is a combination of content from the original game, my own retelling of the story and Zaric Zhakaron's brilliant "What if Oblivion Was Good" video which can be found here: /baV3dFX9uv4. I claim no credit for any ideas created by Bethesda or Zaric. I'm merely putting it into the form of a novel.
1. Prologue

Oblivion: An Elder Scrolls Novel

Prologue

A blood red sky was matched only in ferocity by the roar of the thunder and crack of purple lightning. It was as if a great wildfire had stricken the surface of Nirn, burning the trees to a crisp without a trace of leaves remaining and scorching the very surface of the earth to a crisp. He could hear the distant screams, helpless and hapless victims of this great and horrible danger. He wondered if he would be the next victim.

Walking along the burned path, he observed the horrifying surroundings without a hint of emotion. To his right was a pile of corpses, mutilated and torn to pieces by what he presumed to be hell hounds. To he left were more bodies, except these were impaled on spikes as if part of some sick and twisted art display. He wanted to scream in fear but something wouldn't let him. He simply observed the atrocities and moved on, completely unbothered by the horror that his world had become.

He looked at the bodies as if there were nothing unordinary about them. He saw men, women and children alike, all ages and sizes, some cut in half and others disemboweled. It was as if whatever monsters had killed them took great pleasure in their senseless murders. He did not mourn them, though, for he was the only one who mattered now. If he did not succeed, they would only be the tip of the iceberg.

The city awaited him ahead, smoke and fire rising from within the walls. The thunder rolled and the lightning struck as he made his way down the path of a thousand corpses. As he continued down the road, he couldn't help but notice that the bodies seemed to increase in magnitude in front of his eyes. He felt constricted and ensnared by them, as if they were trying to consume him. His breathing became heavy and his knees became week, but he pressed on to the city nonetheless.

He had to get for the city. It was the only way.

He could see the gate now, a massive steel door that appeared to be a mile high. He could feel the heat of the fires within and coughed violently from the haze and smoke. Falling to his knees, he almost gave up and turned back. But he knew the consequences of that decision. He had to keep going.

The sounds - screaming, thunder, and the clang of steel on flesh - suddenly came to a halt. It was as if all of the world went silent just for him. He shuddered at the newfound silence and looked around, fearing the worst. He saw nothing behind him as a massive foggy haze had enveloped the path he traveled down moments before. In front he still saw the city, but he swore this time he could scarcely make out a figure in the battlements: a single shadow the loomed overhead like death itself.

Before he could react, a dozen more appeared, each one staring down at him motionlessly. Their cold, icy gaze pierced down deep into his soul, causing him to fall to his feet and feel as if he was suffocating. He couldn't look at them - their shadowy faces were too much to bear.

Then silence was broken as the massive, towering gates slowly opened before him. Another figured shrouded in darkness awaited him in the other side, cloaked in a robe as black as night with a hood concealing any face that it might have had. It rode a horse that appeared to be long dead, its flesh decomposing on the spot and its bones fully visible. The horse's eyes glowed red in the darkness, and as he noticed this it was as if a host of other pairs of red pits lit up in the battlements above. The horse and its rider sped up to a trot, slowly and menacingly approaching him

He had to make it to the city. He had no choice.

Mustering up the remnants of his courage, he pulled himself to his feet and began to run. The horse was taken aback and reared in defiance, but its rider cracked a whip and forced it to charge. As he ran ahead, the rider closed in on him and drew a lance made of bone and blood. The lance was pointed right in his direction, and yet he ran forward anyway, not fearing the consequences.

He had nothing to lose.

He had to make it to the city.


	2. Chapter One: The One From My Dreams

Bennirus woke up in a frenzy, sweat dripping from his brow onto the white sheepskin cot he called a bed. He reached quickly for his sword to find that he didn't have one and braced for the robed man to impale him with the bony lance. He had no weapon and no lance came to slay him.

It was only a dream.

Relieved by the notion, the Imperial crashed back down onto the cot and breathed a deep sigh. He gathered that this was the fourth time this week he'd had the very same dream. The visions were always the same: the blood red sky, the shadows on the battlements, the horse and rider. Shaking it off as an unsettling coincidence, he rolled out of bed and hit the cold stone floor with an audible thump.

His cell was unremarkable: it was a small room with few comforts beyond his lice-ridden sheepskin cot and a bucket to relieve himself in. The walls and floor were made of stone, a hard silver with enough bumps to make it uncomfortable to the touch. At one point he began to count the bricks in the wall to relieve the boredom that came with confinement but lost count after reaching one hundred and sixteen. Behind him was a window just large enough to let a few rays of light enter the cell, though it was too high up for him to look out of. He thought it was for the best; if he were able to witness a glimpse of the outside world, it would only make him hunger for freedom that much more.

A rat scurried past his feet and out of the cell. Bennirus envied the small creature, being able to seek its freedom so easily. He tried not to dwell on it, but he knew he would be stuck there in the cold and lonely prison, waiting impatiently for the mercy of death. As if that thought wasn't depressing enough on its own, the situation was only made worse by the Dunmer in the cell immediately across from him.

"Rise and shine, Imperial."

Valen Dreth stood tall and proud in the adjacent cell. Bennirus wondered what insufferable taunts the elf would come up with today. He sighed and turned to his fellow prisoner.

"Good morning to you too, Valen."

"And a good morning it is! At least for me. They're releasing me today, you know."

Bennirus ground his teeth together, trying to maintain his composure. If the elf was to be believed, today would be the day of his release. Bennirus had only been reminded of it a dozen times in the past few days.

"Congratulations."

Valen Dreth smiled devilishly and moved closer to his own respective bars, grabbing onto them and learning forward just enough for Bennirus to see the silhouette of his face in the bleak darkness.

"You don't sound too enthused. Aren't you happy for me?"

"More than you know." It pained him to see the elf be released before him, but at least Bennirus wouldn't have to put up with his sarcasm anymore.

"Such a shame about you though. The way I hear it you'll be here for a while. A long, long while. Yet I will be free! Free as a bird! And you… you're a disgrace. An embarrassment to the good people of Cyrodiil. They wouldn't want you out there, giving the good Imperial citizens of the Empire a bad name! So they threw you in here to rot, because that's the only place for you. That's right, Imperial: you're going to die in here! You're going to die!"

Bennirus lost control and slammed himself forward as if you grab Dreth by the throat only to find himself halted by the steel bars that kept him in custody. He grabbed onto them as if to bend them away but failed, only finding himself embarrassed and humiliated yet again by the elf's savage taunts.

Dreth cackled madly and prepared to deliver another verbal blow before a distant door slammed open and the echo of a dozen footsteps filled the room.

"Looks like the guards are coming, for you!" Dreth giggled with glee that he could hardly contain and disappeared back into the void of darkness in his cell.

With the limited illumination from a torch mounted on a wall sconce, Bennirus watched as the wall of heavily armed and armored soldiers formed a wall of flesh and steel. The walked in formation, each one helping to form a wall around a man clad in robes with light silver hair. These weren't ordinary Legion soldiers from what he could gather: they had different armor, not unlike that of the Akaviri that he'd seen in sketches within books and tomes on the mysterious island people to the east. Moreover, they didn't wield swords: they held katanas: sharp, curved and deadly blades used only by masters of swordplay. In an effort to get a better look, Bennirus walked closer to the bars and leaned forward with interest. Much to his surprise, the host of guards and the man they were escorting stopped in front of his cell.

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off limits!" said one of the soldiers, a tall and slender Imperial woman with silky blond hair and bright blue eyes. Bennirus gathered that she was in charge.

Another soldier sighed and pulled for a set of keys. "Another mix up with the watch. I'll have to have a word with that gaoler."

"Never mind, just get it open. Prisoner! Back against that wall, towards the window! You so much as blink and we'll cut you into pieces!" The woman spoke with ferocity like he'd never seen. Clearly something big was going on. He did as he was told and stood flat against the back of the cell, not daring to move a muscle.

The soldiers marched into the cell single file, each one forming a physical barrier around the man in robes. Their blades were drawn and their faces were made of stone as they didn't dare give Bennirus a chance to do anything he might regret. The woman in charge held her torch and lit up a wall to Bennirus' right, feeling around the stone bricks for something that he couldn't gather. Finally, she sighed in anticipation and pressed down hard onto one of the bricks and, within moments, the nearby wall fall flat onto the ground. Bennirus was astonished.

"Looks like it's your luck day prisoner," said one of the soldiers, a Redguard who was visibly anxious at the prospect of what had yet to come.

Bennirus Talanian, the man doomed to die alone in a cold cell, had just found a way out. It was literally right before his eyes the entire time; he had never felt so lucky before.

He moved forward to follow the entourage, trying to rush to keep up but also keeping as slow a pace as possible in order to avoid making any sudden movements that might get him impaled by a katana. The torches the soldiers carried lit the narrow corridor of what he gathered was some sort of escape route, giving him enough of a hint as to where to go. The entire party of soldiers and their leader remained silent, none daring to make a sound that might give them away. They walked silently in formation with discipline the Legion could only dream of. These men and women were clearly an elite force, which led him to have a suspicion of who the man in robes might be.

The silence was quickly broken by a chorus of unsheathed swords. Bennirus squinted until he saw a pair of torches in the distance at the end of a long, dank hallway. They appeared to be clad in black robes not unlike the mysterious beings he saw in his dreams. Before he could blink, however, the robed transformed into a set of full armor in a flash of light. The pair summoned weapons, each one conjuring up a mace that appeared to be daedric in origin. Before he could react, the soldiers tightened their formation and awaited the summoners' next move.

Bennirus watched with his mouth agape as the summoners sent a massive ball of fire flying in his direction. Before the flames could make contact, one of the guards, a battlemage, conjured a thick magical barrier in front of them that stopped the fireball in its tracks. The summoners sent another volley down the hall, this time casting in unison, but the barrier did not falter. One of the guards shouted "for the Emperor!" And the soldiers charged down at full force to meet their foes. Within a few moments, the woman who had threatened him earlier made short work of the summoners, impaling one in the chest with her katana and kicking the other in the chest with her boot before stabbing the figure in the heart. Blood sputtered up from the deceased mage, signaling the end of the skirmish.

Bennirus kept his distance but still attempted to keep a keen eye on the action. The Redguard who spoke to him earlier bent down to reach for something. Whatever armor the summoners had conjured earlier was gone now. Only their now-tattered robes remained.

"Does this mean anything to you, Captain?" the Redguard asked to the woman. He held up what Bennirus guessed was an amulet of some sort. She took it from him and held her torch close before the man in robes grabbed it from her hands.

"The Shadow Legion," said the robed man, his tone as grim as the grave.

"Your grace," she said with a hint of concern. "Surely it cannot be?"

"It can."

"Traitors!" shouted one of the other soldiers before spitting on a summoner's corpse.

The Redguard, visibly puzzled by the scene, spoke up. "Shadow Legion?"

"Jagar Tharn's personal bodyguard," said the Captain matter-of-factly. They used to be Imperial Battlemages but Tharn swayed them to his side when he usurped the throne during the Simulacrum."

"Oh," said the Redguard, clearly resigned by his lack of historical knowledge. He bowed his head and gave one last glance at the dead summoner before rejoining the Emperor's guards.

Bennirus opened his mouth to interject but struggled to come up with with any words. One of the guards, a tall and burly Nord, turned around to face him, his eyes clearly showing contempt.

"You think the prisoner had anything to do with this?" The Nord said angrily.

"Good point. He could be working with the assassins," said another of the royal guard. One by one, the squad of soldiers turned their attention towards Bennirus. He couldn't move, opulent react. He wanted to defend himself, to explain his innocence (for this crime, at least) but he simply couldn't muster the courage. The situation was simply too much to take in.

"ENOUGH!" shouted the Emperor at once, his voice booming and filling the room in the most commanding tone Bennirus had ever heard. At once, the angry guards sheathed their weapons and bowed, clearly enthralled by their liege's command.

Bennirus relaxed his tense muscles and looked straight into the Emperor's eyes. The old man looked back, not with anger but what appeared to be pity. Bennirus could see a lifetime of pain in his face. Each wrinkle told a story, and the weariness and pain in his eyes said a thousand words. What remained of his snow-white hair flowed aimlessly as a cool breeze entered the hallway from an opening above them. Then he spoke.

"Do you know who I am?" the old man said, his voice strangely comforting.

"Emperor Uriel. Uriel the seventh." Bennirus replied without faltering. Uriel smiled faintly, his cracked lips forming a wry grin.

"And you are the one from my dreams. I know your face. Yet I know not your name."

Bennirus was taken aback by the Emperor's words but responded anyway. "Bennirus Talanian of Anvil," he said, unsure of how else to respond. Emperor Uriel did not release his gaze, but his face became visibly troubled. Bennirus looked into the old man's eyes and saw fear, pain and death. He was clearly more afraid than Bennirus was.

"Then the stars were right… and this is the day. Gods give me strength."

"Side, we must keep moving! The assassins cold be anywhere!" said the Captain. She urged for him to follow but the Emperor did not budge.

"What's going on?" Bennirus finally asked.

"It matters not. Not yet anyway. These are my Blades," Uriel responded, pointing to the dimly lit warriors at the other end of the hall. "For what little time I have left, you will be given the same respect afforded to any of them. Now come. Carry my torch and follow closely." Uriel handed Bennirus his torch, and as he turned to follow the Blades the warm glow that lit up his face died out.

Bennirus finally found the courage to follow in spite of the obvious fact that something was amiss. He could only begin to wonder what Uriel had meant about his dreams, or why he had been so easy to trust a man he had only just met when so much was at stake. Still, he followed the Emperor's orders, feeling compelled as if by magic to obey.

The Blades led him through a narrow passage that seemed to close in around them. The nine of them struggled to squeeze through and had to traverse in single file. Bennirus brushed up against the right wall, shivering as the cold stone met his flesh. Finally at the end of the corridor they met a mercifully wider room.

The room was tiered, with the Blades standing on the top peering down at the empty abyss below. The escape route hadn't been used in years and thus no one had bothered to maintain it; the room was only lit at the top by the Blades' torches. The Captain held up a fist signaling the group to come to a halt.

"I don't like this," she said, unsure of what to do next. After a long pause, she threw her torch deeper into the room. It met the stone floor with a soft bounce and provided the faintest amount of light on the other side of the room. The Captain slowly walked down the steps, taking each one with a gentle stride. After a hat felt like an eternity to Bennirus, she finally spoke.

"All clear," she said grimly, her voice echoing in the distance. The Blades came to attention in unison and followed their leader. Uriel cast a quick glance at Bennirus before following his guards.

Bennirus followed the Emperor closely, curious to see if he had anything else to say. He found himself enthralled by Uriel; while there was nothing remarkable about him at first glance, the Emperor was an incredibly impressive man with a commanding presence - or so it seemed to Bennirus. Much to his surprise, Uriel Septim spoke.

"Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom but not the hour," Uriel said before a short pause. His face was deep in thought, as if he were contemplating philosophy. "In this I am blessed to see the hour of my death… to face my apportioned fate, and then fall."

Bennirus, against his better judgment, couldn't contain his questions. "How do you know all of this?"

"It… is difficult to explain. I fear we have little time left, and I would rather not waste that allotment with tales of visions and dreams."

"Fair enough," said Bennirus, slightly disappointed.

Their short conversation was cut shorter by the Redguard. His voice had an audible anxiety to it. "Sire, there's som thing you should see."

"What is it, Baurus?" asked the Captain.

"It's… a dead end," said Baurus, defeated.

"Damn it! A trap!" said another Blade before drawing his katana.

In front of them was a wall, solid and made of s decaying gray stone. To their right was a wall; to their left was a wall. It was truly the end of the road.

Without a word, Emperor Uriel waded through the the crowd of Blades and stared down the wall as if it were some kind of great foe. The Blades formed a physical wall around their Emperor, each one with a drawn katana and ready to throw themselves at whatever foe might wait for them. Side by side they stood, causing Bennirus to fruitlessly join them as if he were able to defend the Emperor with his fists.

Finally, Uriel moved. He slowly reached forward with one arm, feeling the texture of the wall. Then he pushed, and his arm disappeared. It passed right through the stone like magic, causing some of the Blades to gasp.

It was an illusion.

"Come," said the Emperor had without looking back. His Blades followed without question one by one until only Baurus and Bennirus remained.

"They said it's the dragon blood that flows through the veins of every Septim," said Baurus. "They… see more than lesser men. It's hard to explain."

"I think I understand," Bennirus replied, still unsure of how to respond to the magic he had just witnessed.

"Let's go," Baurus said before passing through the illusion wall. Bennirus followed closely behind, taking a deep breath before heading in. Much to his bewilderment, he did surely enough find himself on the other side in a different room.

On the other side of the illusion was darkness. The torches held by the Blades barely illuminated the room, but a faint glimmer of light was visible on the other end.

Bennirus waited for a moment, breathing heavily, before he heard footsteps. Several people shuffled ahead of them, drawing Blades of their own. Their swords were not physical, however: they were daedric - glowing blades of pure blue energy. They pulsed with a glow that was almost blinding, making it clear that the conjurers were with the Shadow Legion like the ones the Captain felled earlier. There were four of them, each one wearing thick black robes with hoods that concealed their faces in shadow. But in the center of the room was another who stood out. This one's robes were redder than blood, standing taller than the others and holding some kind of glowing orb that pulsated black and red. After a short moment of silence, the man in the center spoke.

"Worthless! Go, bring me the Septim's head!" said the man in the red robes. Before anyone could react, he dropped the orb onto the ground. It shattered, and yet the pieces somehow came back together and formed a foundation of a rough and rocky crescent moon. The shadow Legion soldiers advanced rapidly, daedric Blades raised and swinging, while the orb's remains sparked into a burst of red, orange and white in a spectacular show of lights and fire. After the flash, the orb became engulfed in a fiery portal that lit up the entire room. The red robed man wanted no time in entering it: without flinching, he stepped right through the fiery abyss, disappearing on the other side.

What happened next was hard to discern. Before, the Emperor had seven Blades guarding him with their lives; after a flash, only three remained standing. A massive fireball came bolting towards them, lighting a pair of agents aflame. They screamed in agony as the fire burned through their armor and into flesh. Two other summoners attacked head on, cutting madly through air and steel with their magical blades as they fought to find a target. One of them flung himself at the Emperor; Baurus immediately ran to intercept the attack, catching the summoner's blade with his own. Baurus elbowed his foe in the chest and sent a blade through his heart, ending whatever life it may have had. The Captain impaled another summoner, leaving one left standing. The last one conjured another bolt of fire, this one larger than before, and sent it flying towards the Blades. Bennirus jumped out the way in a seemingly futile attempt to find cover before he heard a deafening _bang_ behind him.

He turned to find the Blade battlemage holding his arms out to create a magical barrier not unlike the one he had made earlier. It stopped the ball of fire in its path, saving the Emperor, Bennirus and the remaining Blades from a fiery death. Seeing that his attack had failed, the last summoner attempted to flee backwards, though the only place it could go was into the portal. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, before the battlemage sent a fireball of his own to the last summoner. It lit him aflame and killed him almost instantly.

Bennirus took a deep, slow breath as he came to believe that he was finally safe. The portal still remained, but it seemed to be stable and nothing appeared to come out of it. Baurus looked around anxiously, waiting for orders from the Captain who in turn awaited her Emperor's demand. Uriel stepped forward, gazing curiously at the portal, and after a few moments finally spoke.

"It is too late," said the Emperor softly. Bennirus could barely hear him.

"Come on, sire, we can still escape! The exit's at the other end of the corridor! If we just…" said the Captain, only to be interrupted.

"You. Let me see your face one last time," said the Emperor in a much louder and commanding tone. Bennirus, still shaking from the previous encounter, didn't realize the Emperor was speaking to him until he felt a cold hand touch his shoulder. He turned to find Emperor Uriel staring straight at him with the most grim and uncertain look he'd ever seen.

"It is too late. You… you alone must stand against the armies of Oblivion." Uriel hastily reached for his amulet, a large red diamond that pulsed in the darkness when he touched it. He removed the amulet from his neck and placed it in Bennirus' hands. Bennirus looked down at the amulet and back up at Uriel, not sure of how to react.

As soon as Bennirus felt the cold metal, the room began to shake. Dust and rubble fell from the roof as if an earthquake were coming and the shaking grew more intense. The portal began to glow brighter and brighter until the entire room was consumed by a deafening roar.

Bennirus stopped and stared at the portal for a moment but Uriel did not break his gaze. The Emperor reached for him one last time to get his attention.

"Take this to Jauffre, in Chorrol. He will know how to proceed from here. Do you understand?" said Uriel, his voice as calm as still water in spite of the chaos that surrounded him.

"I…" Bennirus' response was cut short. From the portal, a figure emerged. This one was clearly no summoner; it was a massive, towering beast covered in thick, gray scales. It had the face of a monster with huge, sharp teeth that were readily visible when it opened its mouth to deliver a painfully loud roar. Baurus and the Captain fell backwards for a last stand against the beast; the battlemage sent a volley of fireballs at it, but the beast shook off the attack as if it were nothing. It charged on four legs, speeding towards the Emperor and his guard. Bennirus wanted to flee backwards but was compelled as if by some strange force to stand.

The beast propelled towards the battlemage and grabbed him, easily ripping through his armor and tearing him in half. Before Baurus or the Captain could respond, Emperor Uriel charged forward without fear, running straight into the abomination. Baurus screamed Uriel's name and ran forward in attempt to save his liege before the beast picked Uriel up with a giant claw.

Uriel attempted to speak, but his words were cut short by the choke hold he was captured in. The monster looked at him curiously as if it were hesitant to proceed. Bennirus stood still along with the two remaining Blades. The three watched with dread, unsure of what was about to happen. Uriel cast one final glance at Bennirus and nodded before the beast opened it gaping maw and consumed Uriel's head with a single bite. The Emperor's headless corpse fell lifelessly to the ground, soaked in sweat and blood. Bennirus' heart sank, knowing with certainty that the same fate would await him.

"For the Emperor!" shouted the Captain before throwing herself at the monster. She swung her katana along with Baurus at the creature, slicing it's tail off. It roared once more, the sound filling the room, before it swung its claws madly at Baurus. The Redguard dodged and fell to the floor, rolling to avoid the daedra's foot as it stomped on the ground to crush him. Behind him, the Captain still fought to slay the beast. It swung a claw at her and sent her flying backwards. Seeing an opportunity to kill her, it pounced forward, digging onto the ground before it emitted a high pitched squeal that was almost deafening. Bennirus covered his ears and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he saw the beast on the ground with the end of a katana sticking out of its back. With the beast's death came the death of the portal as well. It closed, leaving only a foundation of volcanic ash behind.

Bennirus and Baurus ran to the Captain. They managed to pull the hulking brute off of her to find her covered in blood of both the beast and her own. It had ripped through her armor. She didn't have a chance.

"Captain Renault…" said Baurus mournfully. "Gods, damn you!" he said angrily, hacking at the scaly corpse of the monster a dozen times before his katana broke in two. He finally collapsed onto the ground in tears before Bennirus intervened. Bennirus grabbed him by the shoulder, only to be shoved away by Baurus. The Redguard did not look at him, but instead kept his attention focused on the Emperor's body. Finally, he spoke.

"That amulet he gave you… that's the Amulet of Kings," he said weakly, turning towards Bennirus. "It is the only hope this Empire has. I don't know why in Talos' name he trusts you with it, but for whatever reason his parting wish was for you to get that to Jauffre."

"Jauffre?" asked Bennirus.

"He's the grandmaster of my order. He lives in Weynon Priory, outside Chorrol. Just… go there. Go there and find him. And that amulet: keep it secret. Keep it safe. Don't show it to anyone. Hell, don't even look at it. And definitely don't wear it. Just put it somewhere and get it to Jauffre, alright? Go!"

"What about you?"

"It doesn't matter, damn it. We failed… I've failed. Just go."

"I'll get this to Jauffre. You have my word."

Baurus scoffed at the promise and sighed. "Gods save us." He returned his focus to the bodies of his fallen comrades. Bennirus stepped over the corpses and looked back one last time at the last Blade, wishing he could say something to make Baurus feel better. He finally gave up the thought and continued towards the end.

A grate separated him from the outside world. He could see the sun shining through the bars, providing him with enough light to find the exit. He wasted no time walking down what remained of the path. He didn't know how or why, but at that moment it felt like the fate of the world rested in that Amulet. Placing it the pocket of his baggy prisoner's pants, his pace quickened and he began to run to reclaim his long-lost freedom.


	3. Chapter Two: Septim

Bennirus loosened the grate at the end of the tunnel and covered his eyes. The sunlight that he had missed so dearly was blinding, and certainly not what he was used to. A ray or two of light each day would be afforded to him in the cell if he were lucky, but now he would finally be able to soak up as much sunlight as he wanted. He was a free man. Yet he felt trapped. Burdened. Lost.

Why in all of the divines' names had the Emperor entrusted him with such a drastic and important task? What had he done to deserve such an honor? He had heard stories of Uriel's visions - strange dreams that, if the stories were to be believed, gave him images of past, present and future. If he had seen Bennirus in his dreams as he claimed, Bennirus could only imagine what might lay in store for him. After all, the Nerevarine was supposedly crafted in a similar fashion - a prisoner plucked up from the Imperial Dungeons only to find himself wrapped up in a prophecy that ended with him killing the false god Dagoth Ur only six years ago. Bennirus' heart dropped at the thought that he might end up becoming a prophetic hero as well.

He was no hero. His time in the dungeons had taught him that much. Whatever legacy he might have built died the day he was slapped in irons. Bennirus tried not to think about it, but with little else to do in the prison it was hard not to. Was this perhaps the gods way of giving him a second chance? Was there perhaps some kind of mistake, or was it simply a cruel joke?

It did no matter. Bennirus wasn't particularly fond of dreams, visions or gods anyhow. He was certain there would be a perfectly logical explanation for it all. Most likely the Emperor was a madman who relied too much on his subconsciousness. Emperors had gone made before, after all. He wasn't sure if he liked that explanation any better. Either the gods or a raving lunatic had chosen him for a task that would determine the fate of millions of lives. Either way, the thought made him fell ill.

As far as he was concerned, he would simply head straight to Chorrol, drop the amulet off with Jauffre and be on his merry way. He did not see himself having any larger role in whatever prophecy might be at work here. If that were the case, perhaps he might even be rewarded. The thought of a sack of gold made him slightly more motivated to carry out the task, and thus he set out on his way.

After his eyes finally adjusted to the blinding sunlight, Bennirus lowered his arm and looked around. He was from what he could guess at the edge of the Imperial Isle. Behind him he could see the great silver walls of the Imperial City, the proud capital of the Septim Empire. It was utterly massive, especially with its centerpiece: the White-Gold Tower. It was almost as tall as the clouds, rising up through the sky like a long, thin blade. Bennirus always wondered just how much one could see from the top, though he wasn't sure he ever wanted to find out.

He made his way up the slope to the city walls, struggling to cope with the steepness of the hill. After a few minutes of climbing, he found himself on one of the bridges that led to the prison or the market, depending on which way he went. Seeing that he had no intentions of stepping foot in the prison district again, he went the other way.

A pair of Imperial guards stood tall in their plated steel armor before the gate to the market. Bennirus gave them an anxious nod only to be ignored, and, satisfied that he would not be stopped and searched, headed on inside to the market. It was as busy as he had every seen it, with hundreds (if not thousands) of shoppers, merchants, thieves and beggars lining the streets in hopes of making a profit or getting a good deal. The streets were covered up in stalls of those too poor to own a store and the areas around the streets were stores of those too wealthy to justify owning a stall. He read the signs as he navigated his way through the sea of people. Everything a man could ever hope to buy could likely be bought here in the market, legally or otherwise.

Bennirus held on tightly to the amulet in his pocket as he walked through the crowd, fearful that he might drop it or, even worse, a thief might take off with it. He had one place in mind: Luther Broad's Boarding House, a tavern on the south side of the markets. Luther had been an old friend and contact before his imprisonment, and he had hoped to catch up with the old man. Moreover, he could hopefully find word of a caravan or convoy heading out of the city that might get him to Chorrol in one piece.

Bennirus shuffled through the crowd, pushing and shoving when necessary. He nearly tripped over a small boy in rags - presumably a pickpocket of some description - but regained his balance and checked to see if the amulet was still there. It was, much to his relief, but the scare only made him hold onto it tighter. Finally he found himself in front of the boarding house sign and breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped inside.

The bar was mercifully less crowded, though it was not lacking in patrons. Two dozen or so people of all races, sizes and descriptions crowded the bar, many of them drinking merrily and lifting their tankards into the air. Bennirus looked around for Luther and found the old Imperial in the back, pouring ale for a Khajiit with gray and white fur. He passed through a pair of drunken Nords and took a seat at the bar, pulling up a tall brown stool to sit on.

"Well I'll be! Bennirus Talanian!" said Luther, turning his attention immediately to Bennirus. Luther clapped his hands and grinned from ear to ear, visibly happy to see an old friend. Bennirus shook Luther's hand tightly and grinned back.

"When did you get out?" Luther asked, grabbing mindlessly for a bottle of liquor.

"Not two hours ago."

"Damn. They told me you were in for life! How'd you get out so fast?"

"It's… well, it's complicated Luther. I'd rather not talk about it," Bennirus said nervously, glancing back down at his pocket. "I'd order an ale, but I'm afraid I don't have a Septim to my name right now."

"Nonsense! Friends don't pay at Luther's. Have a drink." Luther finally grabbed onto the bottle of ale and opened the cork for Bennirus. Bennirus nodded in thanks and took a long swallow of the ale, savoring every drop of the glorious liquid. He hadn't tasted something so good in years, which wasn't saying much since the best he got in the dungeons was sewer water.

Luther motioned for Bennirus to follow him. The pair went towards the back of the bar to a dimly lit table for two. Each took a chair, with Luther leaning in eagerly to hear what his friend had to say. Bennirus hesitated for a moment, and finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Look, I can't say much. I'm working on a…" he thought about what to say next, choosing his words carefully. He was unsure if he could trust anyone, even a close friend. "I need to get to Chorrol. Today. Sooner rather than later. You know anybody that's heading that way?"

"So soon? I had hoped you might room here for a few days. I have some work for you too."

"I can't. Gods, I can't." Bennirus sighed. He took another long swig of his ale.

"Yeah, I can get you there. Not sure why you just don't walk but your business is your own," said Luther. "Some friends of mine are heading to Hammerfell later today. Khajiit caravan, you know the sort. They're passing through Chorrol I believe. They've got some tough customers, so if you need added protection I doubt you'd have much to worry about. I'll pay for your passage, as a friend. And as a friend, I'd ask for you to at least give me some indication of what's going on," Luther concluded, eying him curiously.

Bennirus considered the comment for a few moments. "Thanks, old friend," was all he could say. He tapped the wooden table with his middle finger twice and took another drink of ale.

"Alright, alright. I'll get it arranged." Luther stood and walked off, clearly dissatisfied with what little information Bennirus had given him. Bennirus chuckled quietly to himself and finished off his ale.

==/==

Bennirus waited anxiously for the Khajiit to arrive, compulsively checking his pocket every few minutes to ensure the amulet was still there. He had plenty of time to reflect on the matter at hand and still didn't like it any better. He had half a mind to dump the amulet in one of the city's waterways and be done with it, but if it were half as important as Baurus claimed he might live to regret that decision very quickly.

Bennirus never did like getting orders. But this order came from the highest authority in the land, and he wasn't sure he could just turn it down (not that Uriel would ever know, given his current state). Lost in thought, Bennirus contemplated the situation more before he saw a pair of snapping fingers appear in front of his face. He came back to reality and noticed that Luther was there along with a heavily armed Khajiit mercenary.

"This is Bennirus Talanian. He'll be tagging along with you for a while, 'least till you get to Chorrol."

"This one is Ra'viir. It is a pleasure to meet you," said the Khajiit, a bulky brute of a cat with thick brown and black fur. "I'm in charge of this caravan. We'll get you to Chorrol in one piece, for a fee that your friend has paid in full."

Bennirus extended a hand and felt the furry embrace of Ra'viir. Ra'viir's grasp nearly pulled Bennirus out of his chair, which made Luther laugh.

"You'll be fast friends, I reckon," said Luther, patting Bennirus on the back. "You heading out now?"

"We had planned on it, yes," replied Ra'viir.

"Alright. Well old friend," Luther said, turning his attention to Bennirus, "it's been nice seeing you again. Good luck with whatever devilry you've got going on in Chorrol. I've got an ale with your name on it whenever you find yourself back in the city."

"Pleasure's all mine," said Bennirus, grinning. "I'll be back before you know it."

Bennirus and Ra'viir left the bar and shuffled their way through the streets. Ra'viir was very talkative, telling tales of lands far beyond Cyrodiil: the deserts of Elsweyr, where he called home, the cold reaches of Skyrim and the jungles of Black Marsh. He claimed to have seen every province in Tamriel save the Summerset Isle. Bennirus smiled and nodded when appropriate, though his mind still raced at the thought of his quest.

It wasn't far to the Talos Plaza district where they could exit the city through the other gate, but it felt as though it took ages to shift through the endless waves of market-goers. He saw shoppers of all descriptions and races. The Imperial City was a melting-pot, though the pot smelled and rang with noise. Bennirus never was keen on overcrowded areas. He preferred solitude and silence, of which this was the opposite. He looked forward to getting to the stables and taking a nice long breath of fresh air.

As Ra'viir rambled mindlessly about boastful adventures, Bennirus couldn't help but shake off the feeling that he was being watched. It was likely that in the crowd of a thousand onlookers that someone had to be giving him a passing glance, but the feeling he had made him incredibly anxious and afraid. He thought back to the scene earlier with the summoners, their faces a black void of shadow and nothingness. He had felt the same then, though he wondered just how they could see anything without eyes.

He glanced around nervously, looking for anything out of the ordinary until his fears came to life. At the other end of the district stood three tall robed mages not unlike the shadow legionnaires that he tangled with earlier. They lingered on a platform, clearly looking for Bennirus, causing him to recoil and lower his face as he looked desperately for Ra'viir who had kept going ahead of him. Bennirus finally caught up with the furry mercenary and grabbed him, which apparently Ra'viir barely felt. The Khajiit turned, his eyes tinged with mild concern.

"We need to move! Now!" Bennirus shouted as loudly he could muster. His warning caught the eyes of more than a few onlookers, though most of them paid him no mind. Ra'viir, obviously confused, nodded softly and quickened his pace. Bennirus followed closely behind.

Bennirus, still running, glanced backwards to see more of the robed summoners. One of them seemed to look straight at him, causing the summoner to conjure a bound weapon like the ones in the escape tunnel did. It shone and flickered bright blue and white in the air, a fiery and deadly conjuration of pure energy. Two others joined up behind it and mimicked it, drawing blades of their own. The nearby crowd began to panic, screaming and shouting in fear as the otherwordly beings advanced towards Bennirus. Ra'viir turned too and seemed to catch a glance of the summoners, for he drew a thick steel greatsword from the sheath on his back.

"Follow Khajiit closely!" said Ra'viir in a booming battlefield voice. Bennirus nodded and ran with him, the two making their way through a crowd of fleeing shoppers. A number of Imperial guards had gathered to repel the summoners. The guards looked capable enough in their plate mail, though the summoners had little difficulty in dispatching them. One guardsmen drew an arrow and fired straight at one of the robed figures before the latter seemed to take control of the bolt mid-flight. The arrow stopped abruptly and shattered into two pieces before falling flat onto the ground. Another summoner conjured a ball of fire and sent it flying into the crowd, causing dozens of unlucky citizens to scream in agony as their flesh caught fire. Bennirus ran as fast he could, this time overtaking Ra'viir. He found another gate leading to the adjacent district before he was stopped cold in his tracks.

In front of him, the gate swung open. On the other side was a single summoner, this one wearing red robes instead of black. It did not have any discernible face; the hood cast a great shadow on it like all of the others. The figure reached out slowly towards Bennirus, still frozen in fear, and whispered coldly to him. In spite of the chaos behind him, Bennirus heard the word as clearly as if his surroundings were silent.

"Septim…" it said, its hand still stretched out palm up.

Bennirus knew what it wanted: the Amulet of Kings. He backed up slowly, unsure of what to do. When he took his first step, the red-robed figure screeched. The sound was blood-curdling and unlike anything Bennirus had ever heard before. He winced in pain and covered his ears to no avail; it was just as loud then as it was before. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, the sound came to a halt. He looked up to find Ra'viir swinging his claymore at the monster. It had little time to react and was cut down by the Khajiit, though strangely it spilled no blood. Bennirus had no time to inspect the figure before Ra'viir grabbed him and sent him through the gate.

The Khajiit slamed the gate shut. Bennirus could hear the carnage continue behind him: fireballs slinging, swords clashing and people dying by the dozens. They would follow him and he would be next if they didn't get out of the city soon. Ra'viir rushed quickly through the streets - now significantly less crowded - and Bennirus followed as closely as he could. The Khajiit was remarkably quick in spite of being burdened by heavy plate armor.

The rest of the trip was far less eventful. After dodging and ducking through back alleys from their pursuers, the pair seemed to have evaded death at the hands of the robed men. By the time they reached the Talos Plaza, Bennirus needed a breather. He tried, but Ra'viir would not allow it.

"We must go! Khajiit does not wish to die an early death so you can stop to breathe!"

Bennirus couldn't argue with the logic and pushed himself further, wheezing wildly as he struggled to catch his breath. The world was spinning around him and he wanted to drop to the floor and collapse, if only for a few minutes. Doing so would most certainly mean his death, however, and he knew he had to keep going. Ra'viir passed through streets and alleys as if he knew every path, causing Bennirus to lose track of him more than once. By the time they reached the end of their escape, Bennirus was desperate for a breather. He hadn't gotten much exercise in the dungeon, and this was proving to be more than he could handle. However, Ra'viir mercifully slowed down after being satisfied that they were no longer the prey in a deadly hunt. He pushed the massive wooden gate open and found the Imperial Isle awaiting them both outside, a beautiful emerald hill with the city topping the lands below. Not far from the Talos Plaza gate was the stables, a small but crowded pen of horses and riders.

"The Chestnut Handy Stables," Ra'viir said, with no noticeable signs of fatigue. "The other Khajiit await you here." Ra'viir stepped forward slowly to lead the way, his greatsword slung across his back without a drop of blood on it in spite of the summoner he had slain. Bennirus played the scene in his head over and over, as the beast screamed that piercing howl of agony that ripped through his ears like a dagger. It said 'Septim,' he was certain of it, and he knew its outstretched hand was reaching for the Amulet of Kings. And yet when Ra'viir cut it in two, the partitioned corpse simply flopped lifelessly onto the cold stone pavement. It was as if it had nothing under the robes beyond shadow. Bennirus shuddered to think about the implications of the chaos he had witnessed.

Ra'viir led Bennirus towards a small camp with fur and leather tents surrounded by horses, baggage and carts. A dozen or so Khajiit traders and mercenaries were packing up the campsite quickly, and their pace quickened even further when they saw Bennirus and Ra'viir.

"Faster, faster!" Ra'viir snapped. "We have a schedule to keep."

One of the other Khajiit, a scrawny female, moved her attention to him. "What is wrong with you Ra'viir? I've never seen you look so concerned before," she said.

"It's nothing. Just an… incident in the markets. This one is Bennirus Talanian. He'll be tagging along."

"For a hefty fee, I suppose?" said the female Khajiit, her arms crossed.

"It's been taken care of." Ra'viir tossed her a bag of gold that he had attached to his belt. She felt it for a few moments before grinning and nodding in approval.

"This will do. Come, master Talanian. We must go soon." Bennirus followed closely, still bewildered and paralyzed by the scene in the markets moments before.

For the next few minutes, the Khajiit rapidly packed up their camp and gathered their cargo. Bennirus was impressed with how quickly they worked, loading the horses and carts faster than he could keep up with. Tents became undone and carts became loaded in a matter of minutes, and by the time a quarter of an hour had passed the troop of Khajiit were ready to travel.

Ra'viir came to him one final time before leaving. The mercenary grabbed Bennirus by the shoulder and gave him a serious look. "This one is concerned about the packs you carry. Our cargo draws bandits and thugs, but yours… well, it seems to attract more deadly attention." Bennirus unconsciously and slowly moved his hand towards his pocket, as if Ra'viir were about to try and take it. It wouldn't have mattered if he did want the amulet; Ra'viir could cut Bennirus in two faster than he could say 'Septim.' Ra'viir glanced down at Bennirus' pocket but said nothing of it. "We will get you to Chorrol. Beyond there, this one wishes to be free of whatever burden you bring with you."

Bennirus nodded in understanding, one hand still toying with the amulet. He couldn't see it, but he felt the sharpness of the ruby, its red glow undoubtedly shining bright in his pocket. It seemed to react to his touch for whatever reason.

The sun began to set and the twin moons of Nirn slowly made themselves visible. By the time the sun passed the horizon to the west, the party set out to Chorrol under the cover of night. Bennirus hoped it would be enough to hide him from any more of the summoners, though he suspected the shadows would not be enough to shield him from whatever great terrors awaited him later down the road.


	4. Chapter Three: Weynon Priory

The trip to Chorrol was uneventful and quiet, just as Bennirus had hoped it would be. Though he observed his surroundings at every corner - looking at every tree in fear that a shadow might be lurking behind it - he found nothing worth noting. The road past the Chestnut Handy Stables led down the slope to the bridge connecting the Emerald Isle to the rest of Tamriel. Known by many affectionately as the Highweye due to its immediate connection to the village of Weye on the other side, it allowed thousands of travelers every day safe access to the Imperial City. That wasn't to say smugglers and criminals didn't find other ways into the city, but the Highweye was the primary source of travel for most visitors.

Ra'viir led the caravan by taking point at the front, ready to draw his greatsword at any sign of trouble. No trouble came as they passed through the sleepy village of Weye, a hamlet of farmers, fishermen and traders who didn't quite have the wealth or the motivation to live the city life. A few villagers gave them some curious glances as they passed. Most of them ignored Bennirus and company, which he was very satisfied with.

The road past Weye led towards some ruined forts, followed by a detour towards the Great Forest - a massive home to hundreds of not thousands of towering red trees. The prospect of a hundred summoners behind every trunk made his heart race, though thankfully no one threw any fireballs at the party of travelers. The Khajiit talked amongst themselves, telling jokes at each others' expense and boasting about past adventures. They didn't realize just how much danger they were in, for Ra'viir didn't feel it necessary to tell them. Ra'viir stuck close to Bennirus, who trailed behind the rest in the back of convoy. Ra'viir could apparently tell that Bennirus was troubled and tried to ease the tension, though nothing the mercenary said could make him feel any better.

He kept telling himself that he would be paid well and that soon whatever prophecy he had been mixed up in would be left behind him and thrown into some other poor fool's lap. Yet something told him that his role in Uriel's plan would not be over so soon. After all, the Emperor had said it would be up to him to 'close shut the jaws of Oblivion.' Would could that have possibly meant anyway?

Bennirus couldn't quite tell the hour when they arrived, but he felt Ra'viir shake him violently to alert him. He was practically sleepwalking at that point after staying wide awake for over a day and looked forward to finding the finest hotel in Chorrol and crashing into a king sized bed with silk sheets.

"Weynon Priory," announced Ra'viir happily. "You will find Master Jauffre here."

Bennirus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. In front of him was the gated community of Weynon Priory, a cozy little monastery tucked into the side of Chorrol. On the other side of the fence, horses chickens and sheep roamed freely. The pastures - as limited as they were - were green as he had ever seen. It looked peaceful and inviting, making him feel slightly better about the whole situation.

A Dunmer dressed in rough leather clothing approached him with a lantern, holding it high to get a better look at his midnight visitor.

"Apologies, but I have urgent business with Jauffre," said Bennirus. He tried to smile but couldn't force even the slightest grin. Much to his relief, the elf did smile and welcomed him into the Priory.

They passed through the small community wordlessly, cutting through a street surrounded by chapels and boarding houses. The Dunmer, who introduced himself as Eronor, seemed to do this kind of thing often. If Jauffre really was grandmaster of the Blades, he probably did a lot of cloak-and-dagger with visitors in the dark of the night.

They finally made their way to the largest building of all: a wooden cabin at the far end of the street. Eronor claimed it was the home of Jauffre and a number of other monks who ranked highly in the Order of Talos. The elf knocked once and parted, casting Bennirus a hopeful glance as if to wish him luck. Bennirus waited a few moments and took in the midnight air when the door finally swung open.

"I am Brother Piner, how may I assist you," said the Imperial man who greeted him. He was tall and slender, carrying a katana like the Blades had wielded earlier but half as large. He was visibly aging, his skin weathered, wrinkled and scarred from experience as Bennirus guessed it.

"I must speak with Jauffre. It's urgent," Bennirus responded, reaching one last time for the amulet. Though he little doubt at this point, he was relieved to find that the necklace remained in his pocket where he had left it hours ago.

Brother Piner arched his eyebrow as if what Bennirus had said was suspicious. He thought for a moment and ushered Bennirus into the main hall.

"You aren't the first to seek Grandmaster Jauffre tonight," he said with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Really? Who else came?"

"I did not recognize him and he gave no name. He simply said it was urgent, not unlike you did."

"Bennirus Talanian, by the way. Thank you for letting me in."

The main hall was modestly decorated. A number of bookshelves lined each wall, each one stuffed to and beyond capacity with tomes, books and scrolls of all shapes sizes and colors. A rug or two lined the floors and the roof was held study by a series of columns, but beyond that the room was nothing that impressed Bennirus. He couldn't say he was surprised: monks weren't well known for their sense of interior design.

At the end of the hall was a split staircase with a pair of stairs going in two separate directions. Brother Piner led him up the stairs to the right which led him to Jauffre's study. The room was small and warm, with a fire burning to Bennirus' immediate left. Much like the main hall, it was lined with bookshelves which were in turn lined with books. A man sat as a large desk on the far side of the room. His face was lit only by a series of burning candles, each one emitting a wisp of smoke in the moonlight. In front of the desk was another, this one fully armored in plate mail just like the Blades had worn during the escape. He wielded a katana as well, and Bennirus immediately deduced that it must be Baurus. After taking a few steps further, his guess was confirmed when he saw the Redguard face to face.

"Master Jauffre," Brother Piner said, pointing towards the desk. He bowed and left the three of them alone, returning back to whatever tome he was pouring through before Bennirus had arrived.

"This is the one?" asked Jauffre, almost condescendingly. Bennirus could make out a few of his features. He was a balding Breton man who looked to be well beyond his years. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, Bennirus had expected someone wise and grizzled, but not this. Jauffre scowled at Bennirus and motioned for him to come forward.

"Yes, Grandmaster," said Baurus, who didn't seem to have any more confidence in Bennirus than Jauffre did. "This is the one."

"Well? Hand it over!" said Jauffre impatiently. Bennirus waited a moment, paralyzed with fear and indecision, until he finally realized Jauffre was referring to the Amulet of Kings. Without a second thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the amulet. The red ruby diamond lit up brightly at his touch and the gold of the amulet flickered in the moonlight. Bennirus quickly but gently placed the Amulet of Jauffre's desk. The old man gazed at it curiously for a moment before picking it up and looking directly into the ruby. For him, it did not glow, but slowly waned into nothingness.

"You do not realize what you have brought me, do you?" asked Jauffre.

"It's the Amulet of Kings," said Bennirus. "Baurus told me."

"Yes, well of course it is the Amulet of Kings. But do you know what it _means_? What it does?"

"I, well… no, Grandmaster."

Jauffre sighed and shook his head. He stood from his desk and plucked mindlessly through a tome until he reached its end. "Then you may as well have a seat. This could take some time."

Bennirus and Baurus seated themselves side-by-side in a pair of wooden chairs. The hardness of the seat made Bennirus' back hurt, but it did feel nice to sit after hours of walking the path to Chorrol with the Khajiit. Jauffre turned to them and began to speak.

"Long, long ago in the First Era, Saint Alessia - I presume even you would know of her - overthrew the great and terrible Ayleid Empire who ruled over most of Tamriel and enslaved the mortal humans. Alessia declared herself the 'Slave Queen' and broke the chains of thousands of slaves, turning them into her own personal army. She organized them and with the assistance of the Divines toppled the Ayleids and won the Tower of White-Gold for herself.

"It is said that Akatosh sacrificed a drop of his won immortal blood to create the Amulet of Kings that I hold now. No one truly knows how it was made, but we do know enough to conclude that the fact that it is not hanging around a Septim's throat is a recipe for disaster." With each sentence, Jauffre's tone grew more angry. Bennirus leaned in closer, enthralled by the history lesson in spite of its condescension.

"The Daedric Princes want Tamriel for their own. Since Tiber Septim, the Empire has been safe from their influence because a Septim has sat the Ruby Throne and worn this Amulet. But now, no such Septim lives. And the Dragonfires diminish for the first time in centuries."

"Dragonfires?" Bennirus blurted, eager to learn more.

"Yes, you fool, the Dragonfires in the Temple of the One. I presume you aren't a terribly religious one. Figures, given that they found in rotting in a dungeon cell. No matter. The Dragonfires are the magical barrier between Nirn and Oblivion, the realms of the Daedra. And because the Dragonfires shine no longer, all of Nirn is fair game."

"You can't mean…" Baurus interjected.

"Oh, I mean what I say!" Jauffre paused, turning to look out the window behind him. He folded his hands behind his back and sighed, clearly not wanting to say what was on his mind. "There's a war coming, and it's coming soon."

Bennirus wasn't sure what to make of the news. War happened all the time: it was a fact of life. But an invasion from Oblivion? Daedra stepping foot in Tamriel?

"They're already here, Grandmaster," Baurus said grimly. Jauffre immediately turned, demanding an answer. "The Emperor… he was killed by a daedroth."

So that's what the monster was? A daedroth? He had heard about them in stories and tales but never thought he'd actually see one. He shuddered to remember just what a monstrosity the beast was with its slimy scales and its razor-sharp claws and teeth that ripped the Emperor in two.

"You know this for a fact?" asked Jauffre, unnerved by the news.

"Yes."

"Gods' blood," said Jauffre in response. He sat back down in his desk and rested his forehead on a single clenched fist. He thought for a moment, struggling to come up with something useful to contribute. "How did it get here? How did a damned daedra step foot on mortal soil?"

Baurus explained the entire situation with Bennirus occasionally nodding to confirm the things he said. He told Jauffre about the Shadow Legion and the summoner in red robes and the device that opened the portal to which he assumed was Oblivion, as well as how the daedroth charged through the Oblivion portal and mauled the Emperor to death. By the time he had concluded his story, Jauffre was visibly shaken. His hands trembled and quaked in fear, as if he had just been given news of the end times. For all Bennirus knew, the news really did mean the end of the world.

"Then my suspicions are true." Jauffre looked up at them, his face red with rage. "Martin Septim lives, and he's plotting to steal the throne."

" _Martin_ Septim? There's another one?" said Baurus. Bennirus couldn't decide if he was outraged or shocked. Probably both.

Jauffre fell backwards into his chair, slumping into it as if we were out of ideas. He looked terribly defeated, and well beyond his years. He sighed loudly and worked up the courage to say what he didn't want to admit was true. "A bastard. Uriel's bastard."

"That explains why I've never heard of him," said Baurus. He began to pace.

"Long ago, Emperor Uriel came to me with a basket. A baby boy lay sleeping inside. He said the boy would be taken care of, though his true heritage must be kept secret. Now it appears this last Septim is the only living person in Tamriel with dragon's blood."

"That's a good thing, right?" Bennirus asked with a tinge of hope. Neither of them responded. "Right?"

"No you blasted fool, this is NOT a good thing!" Jauffre screamed at him. Bennirus recoiled at the unforeseen aggression, nearly falling on his back after he stumbled. "This bastard is a gods-damned daedra worshipper! He runs a blasted cult for Talos' sake!" the Grandmaster shouted, spit flying towards Bennirus as he raged. "And now you tell me that the Emperor was killed by a damned daedra?"

"Grandmaster…" Baurus interjected. Jauffre ignored him.

"Do you know what this means? Of course you don't, you imbecile. I'll have to spell it out for you. Martin Septim worships daedra. The Emperor was killed by a daedra. Martin's involved, that bastard, and he's trying to take the bloody throne!"

Bennirus could only watch. Jauffre had clearly lost it, and any attempts to interrupt him would only make the situation worse. He didn't dare to move.

"Deal with this. Now." Jauffre collapsed onto his chair once again. He covered his face with his hands, defeated. Baurus looked towards Bennirus who couldn't decide who Jauffre was commanding.

"Looks like we're on the same team now," said Baurus, his voice containing a hint of sarcasm. Bennirus' heart sank. Just when he thought he was free of this damned prophecy, he had been dragged right back in.

"Now hold on just one minute, I never wanted anything to do with this and I certainly don't now! You can't just order me around like I'm some sort of dog! I don't owe your dead Emperor a damned thing, and I certainly don't intend to let you tell me what to do!" Bennirus stopped, his heart pounding, realizing his mistake. His temper often got the better of him, as it had just then. Jauffre slowly and menacingly looked up at him, his eyes filled with a fiery malice that burned straight into Bennirus' soul.

"Choose your next words very carefully," Jauffre said. He grabbed a dagger that had been resting on his desk and slammed the dirk into the wooden surface. Bennirus froze, realizing that Baurus too had been irritated by his foolish tirade. The Redguard had his right hand on his hilt, ready to cut Bennirus down on a single command if necessary. Bennirus sighed and threw his hands up in surrender.

"As you command, Grandmaster," he said with a combination of sarcasm and fear.

"Out. Both of you," commanded Jauffre as he shooed them away with a shaking hand.

"What's his problem, anyway?" asked Bennirus angrily as he and Baurus walked the dimly lit streets of Weynon Priory. The lanterns provided a pleasant luminescence that narrowly lit their path, but Bennirus was too angry to enjoy the scenic beauty of the monastery. All he could think about was that pompous bald prune that believed he had any authority over Bennirus. He finally conceded that the old man _did_ indeed have power here, given that Baurus - who would not be taking an eye off of him anytime soon - would skewer him with a katana on a moment's notice.

"What is _your_ problem?" Baurus responded, cutting off Bennirus' path by standing defiantly in front of him. "The Emperor saved you from that dungeon. You owe him everything for getting you out of there. And what do you do? You bitch and moan about how nobody can tell you what to do! You entitled little fetcher, I ought to cut you down right now! For all I know you could be in on the plot!"

Bennirus considered backing away but decided it would only give Baurus further cause to kill him. Instead, he lowered his tone and tried to remain calm. "The Emperor is dead. I don't owe his corpse anything."

Baurus scoffed and turned, allowing Bennirus to continue walking. The Redguard picked up his own pace and continued to lead his companion to the barracks where they would be spending the night. Bennirus welcomed the prospect of a hot meal and a warm bed, but spending the night with a host of priests and monks didn't particularly appeal to him. He'd take what he could get, he supposed.

"I owe that corpse everything," Baurus said with a tinge of sadness in his voice. "He saved _me_ too, you know. From the streets. Plucked me out of the gutter and gave me a spot in the Blades. The _Blades_! And for no reason beyond the kindness of his heart."

"I'm sure he had some prophetic vision about you."

"I doubt it," Baurus said softly. Bennirus was surprised to find him remarkably calm. "But he did have one about you." He stopped and turned to Bennirus once more. "The Emperor's vision aren't just dreams, they're… something more. I don't know how to explain it. The Septims just know more than most men. They see more. And you, for whatever reason, have more in store than you believe. Must be some cruel joke on the part of the gods. Come on, this is where you're staying tonight." Baurus gestured to a small log house with a thatched roof. Bennirus nodded and began to step inside before turning to Baurus with regret visible in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," was all he could come up with. Baurus seemed taken aback by the gesture but didn't dare smile in response.

"Get some sleep. I doubt you'll be getting much after tonight."

As the cold autumn winds blew and the crickets chirped, Baurus walked away wordlessly into the night.


End file.
